AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Whoareyou?” Annabel wondered aloud. “And what have you done with my stern, practical, no-nonsense sister?”
“I’m here.” Lenora wagged her finger. “I’ll also be watching to ensure that what went on in the carriage doesnotrepeat itself under this roof. I expect you to be on your best behavior. But Annie…maybe this is it. Maybeheis it. The one you’ve been waiting for.”
Don’t say it,Annabel willed her silently.Don’t say it. Don’t say–
“Your Prince Charming!”
If Ezra was herPrince Charming, Annabel thought as she shoved her coppery blonde curls beneath a hooded cloak lined with a luxurious layer of soft white cashmere, then she had clearly taken a wrong turn somewhere on her road to happily-ever-after. A mistake that she intended to remedy this very night, while the rest of the house slept.
For the second time in her life, she snuck out of Clarenmore under the cover of darkness to visit a boy…except this boy was a man, and she was not meeting him for a clandestine kiss, but to ask him–beg, if it came to it–not to come to their dinner party.
Guilt gnawed at her with needle sharp fangs as she slipped out a servant’s side door, held her breath to the count of ten, and then hurried across the lawn to a lightly traveled trail that wound its way through the woods before adjoining the corner of Ezra’s property. Lenora had told her to be on her best behavior and yet here she was, stealing out in the middle of the night less than five hours later. Eloise was the sister that did not abide by law and order, not her. But she was doing this because shewantedto follow the rules. She wanted to be a good example. She wanted to be a proper young lady. And she couldn’t. She couldn’t so long as Lord Whitmore was afoot, putting…puttingideasin her head. Wicked, carnal, sinful ideas. The sort of ideas that no proper young lady ought to be having.
Which was why she was going to break justonemore rule.
So that she could avoid breaking a dozen.
It wasn’t as if Ezra wanted to come to the dinner party. He’d just been acting polite, and gracious, and noble. Three things she was positive that he wasn’t, and so he would be undoubtedly pleased–grateful, even–when she asked that he refute his invitation and move to Timbuktu.
Very well.
Perhaps Timbuktu was a far stretch.
But as long as they came to a mutual understanding that they were never to cross paths again, she’d be happy. It wasn’t that she disliked him so much as she disliked her inability to control her emotions when she wasaroundhim.
He…he made her dizzy.
He tied her tongue in knots.
He ruined her carefully crafted composure.
All things that a Prince Charming surely wouldn’t do.
Thus, she had to be rid of him.
By whatever means necessary.
A full moon shone overhead, casting a beacon of silvery light onto glistening snow. The tree branches seemed to stretch out to her with long skeletal fingers as she walked past, and when the wind picked up and they clacked together, she hastened her pace, drawing her scarf up and over her chin. Twice she imagined that she heard the howl of some distant animal, even though the largest thing that prowled this forest was a sleek red fox that Bridget had spotted hunting birds the day before.
When doubt began to creep in, followed closely by a nibbling of fear, she cast a desperate glance over her shoulder at Clarenmore. But the forest had swallowed the estate up, giving her no choice but to continue onward, plowing ahead towards a distant twinkling light in the darkness that she hoped, very much, was from Broadwin House.
Sometime later, cold and shivering, she finally stumbled out of the woods and into a gently sloped field. In the middle of the field, slightly crumpled on one the side with a roof that sagged like an old, worn hat, stood (a relative term) the home that Lord Whitmore had won in his game of whist, or maybe he hadn’t really won at all, as it was more likely that its previous owner had been thrilled to be rid of it.
“There better not be any bats,” she muttered to herself as she forced her left foot in front of the right, all the way up to the front entrance where she was greeted by a leering brass doorknocker in the shape of a lion. “I despise bats.”
As she lifted the ring clenched in the lion’s teeth and prepared to let it fall, she considered–somewhat belatedly–that Ezra might not even be awake, or even if he were, he might not want to receive her at such a late hour, or even if he did, she might not be able to convince him to stay far, far away from Clarenmore Park. But she was already here, and she’d not risked frostbite to turn around without even trying. Squeezing her eyes shut, she slammed the ring down.
7
The Flame and the Flower
The sound ofa loudBANGwoke Ezra with a start. He grunted, started to roll over, and had just enough time to remember that he’d fallen asleep on the chaise lounge (the only piece of furniture in the parlor besides a small round table that held an empty bottle of brandy) before he hit the ground.
“Fuck all,” he hissed, rolling over onto his side. It was a bloody painful awakening from a very delightful dream involving a certain faire-haired siren. Naked except for a blush, she’d been sitting on a chair with her slender arms bound behind her with a strip of silk ribbon, and he had just coaxed her into parting her luscious thighs when–
BANG.
Yes.
